


Venom

by Anariel_Luinwe



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bite, Blood, Drabble, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Imaginexhobbit prompt, Spiders, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anariel_Luinwe/pseuds/Anariel_Luinwe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning from the BOTFA, your caravan injured and weary, gets attacked by the spiders in Mirkwood. Thranduil fights hard to protect you, but will it be enough?</p>
<p>Based on the imagine: “Imagine Thranduil’s face as he defends you from spiders, only to find out later that you’ve been bitten.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Venom

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to the brilliant Mr. J.R.R. Tolkien and none for me.

Based on the imagine: “Imagine Thranduil’s face as he defends you from spiders, only to find out later that you’ve been bitten.”

It was unexpected.

At least as unexpected as a spider attack in the forest of Mirkwood could be. 

You were in a small caravan returning to the halls after the great battle at the foothills of the Lonely Mountain. It wasn’t often King Thranduil permitted leave from the forest, and though the occasion was grim you could not resist the opportunity to see the world beyond Mirkwood’s borders. But you were tender hearted and soft of soul. Your hands were not made for war. Thranduil knew this, and charged you with feeding and clothing the displaced mortals of Laketown. 

Even now, under duress and surrounded by the clang of swords and the twang of bowstrings, you hated the weight of weaponry in your arms. You had never been particularly elegant with a blade, but fear and adrenaline gave you the energy to defend yourself. Your kin fought around you, already weary and injured from the gates of Erebor. But the spiders were hungry and preying on the exhaustion and weakness of the elves. Even your King appeared sluggish as he attempted to slay the offending creatures.

A spider dropped suddenly in front of you from a higher branch, startling your mare. She reared hard and bucked underneath you, throwing you off her back before running into the trees. The spider hissed and clicked it’s ugly pincers, snapping at your face. Instinct took over you. You thrust your arm up and embedded your blade in the belly of the beast above you and rolled from underneath its weight. 

“Y/N!” Thranduil shouted as he cut down every foe in his path. 

You watched slightly dazed as he fought his way to your side and stood protectively over you. Spiders lunged and swiped but none were a match for the King of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil gracefully twirled and dodged, killing anything that dared to come too close to you. He was the picture of grace and death. 

And as soon as it started, it was over. You still lie on the forest floor, fear and adrenaline thrumming through your veins. Your king kneeled over you, brilliant blonde hair spilling over his shoulders and tickling the skin of your cheek. His usually cool facade slipped from his features as worry took its place. 

“Y/N, are you injured?” Thranduil asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

Your eyes found his and you nearly recoiled when you saw an emotion you could not quite identify reflecting in them. It was known that the king favored you. You had spent many evenings strolling through the palace gardens, merely talking. You would even go so far as to say that you had become friends. But the look he was covering you with was so potent, so passionate...it took you off guard. That look was never meant to be directed at an elleth of your stature. 

“No, just a bit frightened.” You finally said, raising yourself to a sitting position. 

Heat suddenly rushed to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and stars burst forth from behind your eyes. Your travelling cloak fell away from your upper body revealing a blooming patch of red on your left shoulder. You let out a mixture between a hiss and a moan and fell back against the ground. The adrenaline was leaving your system and in its wake left a trail of fire as the spider’s venom coursed through your veins. 

Cold hands pressed hard into your wound causing you to cry out in pain. 

“You’re bitten.” Thranduil stated simply as he attempted to staunch the blood. “We must get you to a healer immediately.”

The pain and shock left you in a haze and your lips fumbled to form words. 

“Do not speak, conserve your strength. I do not think we will make it to the palace. I must do this myself.” He spoke quietly and seemingly to himself. 

Thranduil’s icy gaze glared at the bite once more before fading to a look of panic. A flush crept up from the edges of his high-necked tunic and dusted his porcelain cheeks. You’d never seen him blush before.

Thranduil looked up at the sky above and quickly muttered, “I’m sorry, i’m going to have to remove your tunic.”

This declaration gave you enough energy to shoot upward and nearly knock your Lord to the ground. “‘ _scuseme_?” You slurred. 

The King merely ignored your outburst and pushed you back to the ground. His elegant fingers deftly removed the rest of your cloak and made quick work of unbuttoning your bloodstained tunic. If your blood hadn’t been gushing out of the punctures on your shoulder you would have blushed as red as the berries that adorned Thranduil’s crown. Though the King seemed embarrassed enough for the both of you and that eased the awkwardness...at least for you. His cold hands ghosted over the raw and inflamed edges of your wound and you sighed in relief. His deep and melodic voice started chanting old and rhythmic elvish, drawing the venom from your veins. He kept his gaze fixed on your injury and his eyes never strayed. You took the opportunity to study your Lord. There never was a creature more beautiful to grace Middle Earth. You were sure of this. Long you have admired him, but it was only recently you began to think it had evolved into something more. But you pushed those feelings aside forcefully...for you were a lowly Sylvan elf and knew it would never come to pass. However now you weren’t so sure. 

Thranduil stopped the incantation and removed his beautiful red velvet cloak and draped it over your modesty. His eyes looked as exhausted as you felt. Your body felt heavy and sleep begged you to close your eyes. Unconsciousness began its descent as your vision started to fail you. Delicately he grasped your hand and brushed his lips against the back of your knuckles. 

“Truthfully, that is not how I imagined the first time I would see you bare in front of me.” He smirked against your hand. 

But the blackness had already claimed you. 

“Sleep now. I’ll watch over you.” Thranduil whispered, but you never heard. You only felt warm and safe.


End file.
